We peeled a mountain of potatoes, cut up vegetables, set out the turkey to thaw, and started the piecrusts. The first hour was more than uncomfortable, but when the twins arrived, everyone seemed to congregate in the kitchen. Jim told stories about each of his boys, and we laughed about tales of earlier disastrous Thanksgivings when they attempted to do something other than order pizza.
“Diane was a hell of a cook,” Jim mused. “Trav doesn’t remember, but there was no sense trying after she passed.”
“No pressure, Abby,” Trenton said. He chuckled, and then grabbed a beer from the fridge. “Let’s get out the cards. I want to try to make back some of my money that Abby took.”
Jim waved his finger at his son. “No poker this weekend, Trent. I brought down the dominoes; go set those up. No betting, dammit. I mean it.”
Trenton shook his head. “All right, old man, all right.” Travis’s brothers meandered from the kitchen, and Trent followed, stopping to look back. “C’mon, Trav.”
“I’m helping Pidge.”
“There’s not much more to do, baby,” I said. “Go ahead.”
His eyes softened at my words, and he touched my hip. “You sure?”
I nodded and he leaned over to kiss my cheek, squeezing my hip with his fingers before following Trenton into the game room.
Jim watched his sons file out of the doorway, shaking his head and smiling. “This is incredible what you’re doing, Abby. I don’t think you realize how much we all appreciate it.”
“It was Trav’s idea. I’m glad I could help.”
His large frame settled against the counter, taking a swig of his beer while he pondered his next words. “You and Travis haven’t talked much. You having problems?”
I squeezed the dish soap into the sink as it filled with hot water, trying to think of something to say that wasn’t a bald-faced lie. “Things are a little different, I guess.”
“That’s what I thought. You have to be patient with him. Travis doesn’t remember much about it, but he was close to his mom, and after we lost her he was never the same. I thought he’d grow out of it, you know, with him being so young. It was hard on all of us, but Trav…he quit trying to love people after that. I was surprised that he brought you here. The way he acts around you, the way he looks at you … I knew you were somethin’ special.”
I smiled, but kept my eyes on the dishes I was scrubbing.
“Travis’ll have a hard time. He’s going to make a lot of mistakes. He grew up around a bunch of motherless boys and a lonely, grouchy old man for a father. We were all a little lost after Diane died, and I guess I didn’t help the boys cope the way I should have.
“I know it’s hard not to blame him, but you have to love him, anyway, Abby. You’re the only woman he’s loved besides his mother. I don’t know what it’ll do to him if you leave him, too.”
I swallowed back the tears and nodded, unable to reply. Jim rested his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “I’ve never seen him smile the way he does when he’s with you. I hope all my boys have an Abby one day.”
His footsteps faded down the hallway and I gripped the edge of the sink, trying to catch my breath. I knew spending the holiday with Travis and his family would be difficult, but I didn’t think my heart would be broken all over again. The men joked and laughed in the next room as I washed and dried the dishes, putting them away. I cleaned the kitchen and then washed my hands, making my way to the stairs for the night.
Travis grabbed my hand. “It’s early, Pidge. You’re not going to bed, are ya?”
“It’s been a long day. I’m tired.”
“We were getting ready to watch a movie. Why don’t you come back down and hang out?”
I looked up the stairs and then down to his hopeful smile. “Okay.”
He led me by the hand to the couch, and we sat together as the opening credits rolled.
“Shut off that light, Taylor,” Jim ordered.
Travis reached his arm behind me, resting his a
rm on the back of the couch. He was trying to keep up pretenses while appeasing me. He had been careful not to take advantage of the situation, and I found myself conflicted, both grateful and disappointed. Sitting so close to him, smelling the mixture of tobacco and his cologne, it was very difficult for me to keep my distance, both physically and emotionally. Just as I had feared, my resolve was wavering. I struggled to block out everything Jim had said in the kitchen.
Halfway through the movie, the front door flew open and Thomas rounded the corner, bags in hand.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” he said, setting his luggage on the floor.
Jim stood up and hugged his oldest son, and everyone but Travis stood to greet him.